Tymora's Luck

by Kate Novak

  The old man had not explained why he’d granted Emilo such an unusual gift, but the kender assumed it was so he could spy on people. In Walinda’s case, the thought didn’t give the kender much pleasure. The priestess gave him the shivers. Still, someone had to keep an eye on her.

  Walinda unrolled the flying carpet, settled herself in the center, and ran her hand over the heavy wool with a look of pleasure. Then, assuming she was alone in the pavilion, she began poking through the party’s gear.

  First she dumped out the contents of Holly’s backpack. With a disdainful look, she pawed through the paladin’s brightly colored clothing. A glittering glass sculpture caught her eye, and she picked it up.

  The priestess let out a cry and tossed the sculpture aside as if it had burned her. It landed right at Emilo’s feet. As the priestess sucked on her fingers, Emilo scooped up the piece of glass and examined it. It was a piece of red glass, shaped like the sun, with a beaming smile on its face. It was every bit as lovely as Jas’s star-filled paperweight and Joel’s finder’s stone. Emilo slipped it into a pocket of his vest, certain that Holly would not want it left behind.

  Walinda stuffed Holly’s things back into her pack. Next she looked through Joel’s pack and the one Winnie had given them, but she found nothing of particular interest. Joel had kept the finder’s stone and the scrolls with him, Emilo remembered. Since the potions were missing, Emilo figured Joel must have taken them as well. The gold had been in the other backpack, the one Jas had filled with rocks to attack the barghest. Jas had scooped the gold into her own pack—the same pack she’d flown off with when the bar-lgura attacked.

  Walinda was just stuffing the last of the party’s gear back into Winnie’s pack when the awaited ally arrived. Walinda left the pavilion to greet her. The priestess escorted a snake-woman with six arms into the pavilion. The snake-woman never spoke aloud, but Walinda kept saying “yes” and “no” as if she were answering questions. After a while the kender realized that the snake-woman must be speaking directly to Walinda’s mind.

  “This,” Walinda said spreading out a map on the table, “is our objective.” She pointed to a spot on the map. “These are our forces.” The priestess stepped back while the snake-woman examined the map in silence. Emilo could see Walinda nod occasionally, so he knew she and the snake-woman were still having a telepathic conversation. He was mildly annoyed. What good was it to be able to spy on someone this close up and not hear half the conversation?

  From outside the tent, Emilo heard what sounded like a brawl. Walinda and the snake-woman were so intent on studying the map that they failed to take note of it. Curious, Emilo slipped outside the pavilion to investigate the noise.

  About fifty yards from the pavilion, a crowd of the minotaur-like bulezau stood in a tight circle, shouting and cheering. Emilo had to squeeze between the legs of one of the smelly creatures to see what they were watching.

  The bulezau stood around a great circular pit some fifty feet across and twenty feet deep. Torches flared and sputtered near the top of the pit wall. At the bottom of the pit, three hydroloths fought against three bulezau. They fought without weapons, using their claws and teeth. The froglike hydroloths also spat yellow poison, and the bulezau smashed into their opponents with their horns and slashed at them with their spiky tails. When one hydroloth managed to bring down a bulezau, another leapt into the pit to take its fellow’s place. Between the poison, the blood, and the ichor, the stench from the pit was unbearable. When one of the hydroloths lost an arm, Emilo turned to squeeze his way through of the crowd. After a few deep breaths of air, the kender was able to continue.

  Spotting Joel and Holly making their way back toward the pavilion, Emilo ran to intercept them.

  Joel felt a tug at his sleeve. Out of the blue, there was Emilo. The kender motioned for him to follow. Joel took Holly’s arm and led her toward the crowd of bulezau around the pit.

  As their bar-lgura escort approached the crowd, the giant bulezau parted for the smaller apelike creatures and their human charges. Joel was the first to see into the pit, and he tried to keep Holly back, but the paladin would not be deterred.

  At the bottom of the pit, a dozen or so bulezau and two giant frog creatures lay dead or too injured to move. One giant frog, over ten feet tall, and a single bulezau still fought. The gore caused an awful stench.

  Holly’s eyes narrowed to angry slits.

  “Are those frog creatures hydroloths?” Joel asked.

  “Yes,” the paladin answered coldly.

  “Entertaining, isn’t it?” Walinda asked from behind them. “Prisoners should always be made useful.”

  Joel spun about. The priestess and the marilith stood beside one another. The marilith was an exceedingly comely female, with bright blue eyes and shining blonde hair that streamed down to her waist in a mass of curls. A flimsy veil covered her upper torso. About her hips she wore several scabbards. She rose from the coils of her green tail, hovering at least a foot above Joel.

  “This is Stentka Taran,” Walinda introduced the tanar’ri.

  The bard bowed courteously. Since the marilith said nothing, neither did he.

  “We have just finished mapping out our plan of attack,” Walinda said.

  “I hope it didn’t rely on the twelve dead warriors in the pit,” Holly growled. “Your foolish entertainment is a shameful waste of lives.”

  “But it was an effective demonstration for the others,” Walinda replied. “Magic has been dispelled in the pit, so the hydroloths were partially handicapped. They were quite effective nonetheless. Now the bulezau are aware of the physical strength of the opponents they will face.”

  “What difference will that make?” Holly argued. “You won’t be fighting your battle in a pit.”

  “But we can, in a manner of speaking,” Walinda said. She pointed to an iron pole, some six feet high, which was firmly planted in the center of the pit. Tied to the top of pole was an iron latticework sphere about as large as a man’s head. A dark blue light seemed to glow within the sphere. “In the war between the tanar’ri and the baatezu, the sphere you see is called a magic killer. It negates all magic within thirty feet of it. If you were paying closer attention to the combat, you might have noticed that the hydroloths attempted to reach the sphere to destroy it, while the bulezau tried to prevent them from doing so.”

  As Walinda spoke, the remaining hydroloth slashed completely through the head of the bulezau it was fighting. Another bulezau leapt into the pit, but not before the hydroloth whipped its tongue across the pit and scooped into its mouth the magic killer with the iron pole still attached.

  Walinda frowned. The hydroloth bit down on the magic killer. There was a flash of blue-white light, and a blast of energy tore through the pit. Bits and pieces of the hydroloth and the bulezau showered the audience at the rim of the pit.

  “So much for your magic killer,” Holly said.

  “Oh, rest assured, paladin,” the priestess replied. “We have more.” She looked suddenly at the marilith and nodded. “Stentka Taran wishes to know if you will submit to a test,” Walinda said.

  Holly’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What sort of test?” she asked.

  “Merely a test of your skill in combat,” Walinda said.

  “I didn’t come here to entertain you as a gladiator,” the paladin replied.

  “Stentka needs to assess your skill to decide where you will best fit in our assault plans.” Walinda gave Holly a chill smile. “Unless you wish to rescind your offer to aid in our attack,” she said.

  Joel could see the paladin was struggling to control her anger at the implication she might go back on her word. Her nostrils flared and her shoulders shook. The marilith watched the paladin, too, and Joel had the sudden impression that Walinda’s insult had been a test as well.

  Holly took a deep breath. The true extent of her abilities was more knowledge than anyone in her right mind would wish to share with the evil priestess. In the end, however, the pal
adin’s desire to obey Lathander superseded her heartfelt desire to deny Walinda her request. “Whom shall I fight?” Holly asked.

  “Stentka will test you herself,” Walinda explained. “You will use edgeless weapons.”

  The marilith slithered toward the paladin. From one of the many scabbards she wore about her hips, the tanar’ri drew out a long sword. Holding it by the unsharpened blade, she offered the hilt to the paladin.

  Holly took the sword. The marilith drew out a second sword.

  The bulezau and the bar-lgura drew back a respectful distance from the combatants. Walinda stepped back to stand beside Joel as Holly and the marilith began circling each other warily.

  The marilith began with a broad, sweeping stroke, which Holly parried easily. The tanar’ri’s second strike was quicker and closer to the paladin’s heart, but Holly knocked it aside. Although the combat was only a test, the bulezau and Walinda were mesmerized by the dance of weapons. The bulezau cheered and shouted encouragement each time steel struck steel.

  Once more Emilo tugged on the bard’s sleeve. Joel stepped back away from Walinda. Without taking his eyes from the combatants, he squatted on his heels so the kender could whisper in his ear.

  “I was trying to show you one of the hydroloths in the pit,” Emilo whispered. “He’s the one who came to Sigil to take Jas away.”

  “How can you tell? He looked just like the other two,” the bard insisted, without bothering to look back down into the stinking pit.

  “Before the bulezau cut him to pieces, his markings were very distinctive,” Emilo said softly. “I know that’s him.”

  “Well, he won’t be bothering Jas anymore,” Joel noted.

  “Suppose he was here looking for Jas. Suppose the others were, too. Suppose,” Emilo hissed urgently, “there are more of them out there looking for her.”

  Joel looked up into the dark sky. Unsurprisingly, he could see no sign of the winged woman. “Keep an eye on Holly,” he whispered. Then he stood back up and pushed his way through the crowd of tanar’ri watching the combat. Walinda was too engrossed in the combat to notice the bard’s departure. Only the bar-lgura honor guard followed him. He slipped behind a boulder. Facing the rock and using his body as a shield from any curious eyes, he pulled out the finder’s stone and thought of Jas.

  The beacon of light shot out toward the outer edge of the canyon. Joel waited several anxious moments before Jas came shooting out of the darkness and landed beside him. Her eyes were glowing like an owl’s, and there was a tuft of feathers sticking out behind her ears and over her eyebrows.

  “What’s going on?” the winged woman asked, jerking her head toward the crowd of tanar’ri.

  “Holly’s fighting a marilith,” Joel said. He grabbed Jas’s arm before she could race to the paladin’s aid. “It’s Holly’s choice. It’s some sort of test. I brought you here in case—” Joel hesitated, not wanting to suggest Jas couldn’t look out for herself.

  “In case what?” Jas asked.

  “Emilo spotted the hydroloth who was sent to bring you back to Xvim. The hydroloth’s dead now, but there could be others around. I want you to stay in camp until the attack. You won’t have to see or speak to Walinda. You can stay right here. If Xvim’s minions know you’re here, it won’t be safe for you to be alone out there.”

  “Joel, what difference does it make?” Jas growled. “Look at me. The dark stalker is taking over again. I don’t know if it’s because I’m close to Xvim’s realm or because I can’t stop thinking about Walinda, but it doesn’t matter. It’s going to get me in the end.”

  Joel put his hands on Jas’s shoulders. “It does matter,” he insisted. “Gods, if Holly can bring herself to ally with Walinda and a marilith to bring about a greater good, you can at least try. You can fight this thing.”

  “I’m tired of fighting it,” Jas said with a sigh. “Since the fetch weakened me, it’s harder to resist. I’m turning into a creature of darkness. You shouldn’t trust me anymore.”

  “I won’t accept that,” the bard said. “You have to fight this. Too much depends on us, on you. If Xvim has found a way to steal Tymora’s luck and Beshaba’s misfortune, think what he can do with it. Think what Realmspace will be like when his priests have all the luck and his enemies are beset with misfortune.”

  “I can’t stop that either,” Jas snarled. “I can’t stop anything. I’m useless.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Joel argued. He wracked his brains for something he could say that would convince Jas to at least make the attempt to hang on to her humanity. Finder would know what to say, the bard thought. Finder would give her a reason even if he had to make it up. Then an idea struck him. “We need you to make our plan work. There’s no one else who can get us into the Bastion of Hate.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jas demanded.

  “If they think you’re a dark stalker, they’ll let you into the bastion. I need Walinda to get us some more information from the hydroloth that was after you in Sigil.”

  “I thought you said he was dead,” Jas argued.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem for Walinda,” Joel said. “Will you wait here? Please?” the bard pleaded.

  Jas shrugged, and her wings stiffened. Joel was afraid she was going to launch into flight. Then she nodded.

  Joel turned around. The bar-lgura Walinda had assigned to escort him were standing behind him, watching curiously. Joel wondered just how much they understood, and how much they would report back to Walinda. The bard pointed to two of the apelike creatures and ordered, “Make sure no one bothers her.” Then he headed back toward Walinda. The bar-lgura he’d appointed as Jas’s guardians remained behind.

  Joel felt a secret twinge of amusement that he’d actually ordered a tanar’ri to do his bidding. He wondered what Finder would say about that. He’d probably tell his priest not to let it go to his head.

  With the help of his remaining bar-lgura escort, the bard squeezed his way through the bulezau and returned to Walinda’s side. Emilo stood beside the priestess, hopping from foot to foot, silently cheering for Holly.

  Holly was still battling the marilith, but even Joel could see she wasn’t doing well. She was slowed by having to constantly watch her footing as the marilith tried to coil her snake tail about her feet. The marilith used only one weapon, but she switched it from hand to hand to hand, keeping the paladin off-balance. Holly did manage to strike one solid blow to the tanar’ri female’s tail, and she successfully warded off all the thrusts aimed at her, but in the heat and the stench of the plane, she soon tired.

  The marilith ended the combat suddenly by sheathing her weapon. She must have spoken to Holly with telepathy, for the paladin replied, “Yes, I did,” as she handed back the unsharpened blade the marilith had given her for the test.

  The marilith bowed to the paladin and slithered off to Walinda’s pavilion. The bulezau and bar-lgura cleared a wide path for her and the two toadlike hezrou warriors who followed in her wake.

  Holly returned to Joel’s side.

  “What did she say to you?” the bard asked.

  “She said I fought well for someone so young, and that I must have had an excellent teacher,” the paladin replied, wiping the sweat from her brow with a handkerchief.

  “Your father trained you, didn’t he?” the bard asked.

  Holly nodded. Her father, Joel recalled, had been a warrior from Zhakara who had settled in Daggerdale, far from his native land, after having fallen in love with Holly’s mother. He’d died only a year ago, murdered by orc raiders along with his wife and in-laws. Holly still used the curved blade he’d brought with him from Zhakara.

  “I must confer with Stentka,” Walinda said.

  “Just a minute. I have some conferring I need to do myself,” the bard said. “I think Jas and I could manage to get into the fortress before your attack and perhaps sabotage a few of their defenses.”

  “Oh?” Walinda prompted the bard, obviously interested.

>   “It depends on whether or not you can speak with the dead,” Joel explained.

  “What dead?” Walinda asked.

  Joel strode back to the edge of the pit. “Which one?” he whispered to the kender.

  “The one on the right, with his right arm missing,” the kender whispered back.

  Joel turned back to face Walinda and motioned for her to join him. “That hydroloth,” he said, pointing into the pit. “The one on the right, with the missing right arm. How did he come to be a prisoner?”

  “As I mentioned before, Xvim will not allow anything to fly, teleport, or magically gate directly into his realm,” the priestess explained. “His agents must teleport outside the walls of the Bastion of Hate and announce themselves at the gate to gain entry. The hydroloths teleport to the lava flows, where they delight in swimming before returning to their hired lord. The bulezau fished all three of these creatures out of the lava several hours before you arrived.”

  “The hydroloth I mentioned was stalking Jas in Sigil to bring her to Iyachtu Xvim. He was helped by a priest of Xvim who we defeated in combat. If I can find out more about his mission, I might get away with impersonating a mercenary hired by the priest and the hydroloth to bring Jas back,” Joel explained.

  Walinda nodded thoughtfully. She pointed out the hydroloth in question to the nearest bar-lgura. “Fetch that corpse from the pit,” she ordered. “You … bring me a torch,” she ordered a second bar-lgura.

  Within a few minutes, a team of bar-lgura had hauled the dead hydroloth from the pit and laid it at Walinda’s feet. The bar-lgura who’d been sent for a torch returned with a piece of tar-drenched fabric wrapped about a pike. Great clouds of smoke came from the torch, but it burned brightly enough to cast shadows in the dark canyon.

  “What question shall I start with?” the priestess asked.

  “Ask him what the purpose of his mission in Sigil four nights ago was,” Joel suggested.

  Walinda nodded. From a small pouch hanging from her armor, she drew out a stick of incense and lit it from the torch flame. She knelt beside the head of the stinking froglike corpse. Holding the incense in her left hand, she held it under the hydroloth’s nose. With the fingers of her right hand, she stroked the emblem of Beshaba tattooed into her cheeks. Then she began chanting dark words that had no meaning to the bard, for which fact Joel was most grateful.